The Cresset
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Rumble Strip
Sarah Wells (bio)

Speeding down the interstate at seventeen
in my parents’ Thunderbird, I am out to show
I am fearless. Eighty seems a lifetime ago,
gauges rising, grill grinning at the GMC Jimmy
rattling in the passing lane. Cheers are heard
on the CB radio. My boyfriend’s hands are pressed
against the dash. He looks at me, forehead creased,
speeding down the interstate in my parents’ Thunderbird.
I am not fearless. I can’t prove that I’ll make it
past ninety with my future husband I will meet
four years down this road. A future daughter sits
buckled in and yells, “Slow down!” son kicks my seat
and points, “TRUCK! TRUCK!” never consider
parents, younger brothers, my nervous passenger
or his future wife and daughters, families
and cars I pass as if I have nothing to lose

or gain on this freeway, dotted white lines
speeding by on this open road, like ellipses.

 

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